


A Little Extra Fluff

by defenestratingreason



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Food, Friendship, Gift Fic, Male-Female Friendship, One Shot, Open to Interpretation, Short One Shot, not my fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defenestratingreason/pseuds/defenestratingreason
Summary: Tony takes a food break and discovers that Natasha's been raiding the kitchen for her own mysterious purposes; snark and fluff ensues.





	A Little Extra Fluff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).



> Original prompt by Meatball42:  
> Tony / Natasha fluff  
> Prompt: fluff  
> May include a sandwich but does not have to

“Mr. Stark, you’ve been working continuously for eight hours. Might I suggest a small break?”

Tony looked up from his workbench, where he was assembling a mechanical arm for the latest variation of the Iron Man suit. The small distraction brought with it a sudden awareness of his surroundings, and he realized his stomach was grumbling.

“Okay,” he agreed, setting aside the arm. “I could use a snack.”

“What food groups do I need to hit?” he asked, once he was in the elevator.

“You’ve acquired a bit of a protein deficit in the last few days.”

“Great. I’ll make a peanut butter sandwich.” The elevator door opened with a  _ ping _ and deposited Tony on the common floor, right next to the kitchen.

“Sir, I’m not sure that will be sufficient--”

“And order me a burger from that place I liked on 57th.” He grabbed two slices of bread from the bag on the counter and lay them side-by-side on a clean plate.

“Pickles, sir?”

“Hold the pickles.” He swung open the door to his designated cupboard and blinked at the emptiness that greeted him. “Jarvis, where’s my peanut butter?”

There was a slight pause as the AI accessed the kitchen’s video files.

“Agent Romanoff carried it down to her floor eight minutes ago.”

Tony slammed the door shut and stalked over to the elevator. The doors opened immediately, and he jabbed the button for Natasha’s floor.

“Put Natasha on the line.”

The sound of a ringing phone filled the elevator for two seconds and then stopped with a click.

“Tony. What’s up?”

“What are you doing with my peanut butter?” he demanded without preamble.

She paused for only a fraction of a second, but Tony had seen her in action enough times to know when she was about to improvise a story.

“I got hungry.”

“We have a kitchen.”

“I wasn’t in the mood for company.”

The elevator opened onto Natasha’s floor. Tony ended the call and tried the door to her apartment. It wasn’t locked.

“I hope you’re not naked,” he called out, stepping into her living room. She wasn’t there, so he continued down the hall. “Because that just wouldn’t be fair, you being naked and me still having all my… “ He caught sight of Natasha through the open door of her bedroom and slowed to a halt, eyes widening as he took in the scene in front of him. “Is that my peanut butter?”

Natasha glanced up at Tony through her vanity mirror, totally unperturbed as she spread the thick, gooey substance through her hair. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to enter without knocking?”

“Didn't anyone ever tell you not to steal other people's stuff?” ”

“Clint used up my stash for sandwiches.” 

Tony watched, mystified, as smeared another gob of peanut butter onto her curls. “What are you doing, anyway? Is this some kind of assassin thing? Are you disguising your scent?”

Natasha’s lip quirked in amusement.

“It’s a hair treatment. It gives it a little extra bounce.”

“And here I thought you just used a curling iron.”

“I haven’t always been stationed in places with electricity.” She nodded towards the bed. “You can come in if you want.”

“I thought you weren’t in the mood for company.”

She shrugged. “Now that you’re here, you might as well stay.”

Tony stepped into the room and sat down at the foot of her bed.

“You’re replacing that,” he said, nodding towards the now heavily depleted jar of what was supposed to be his protein for the day. 

She smirked at him from under her lifted arm. 

“You can’t afford one jar of peanut butter?”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he complained. “I was making a sandwich.”

“Jarvis, put in a bulk order of peanut butter.” She grabbed a shower cap off of her vanity and covered her hair with it. “Here.” She handed Tony the jar. “Go make your sandwich.”

“I swear to God, if there’s hair in this…”

“Make me a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff while you’re at it.”

Tony grumbled as he left, but a few minutes later he was back, carrying a plate with two sandwiches. 

Natasha was sitting on the couch in her living room, still wearing the shower cap, watching a TV show. She paused it as Tony entered and held out an eager hand for the sandwich.

“You know, I wouldn’t have pinned you for the marshmallow fluff type,” Tony commented, sitting beside her on the couch. “What are we watching?”

Natasha paused and swallowed. 

“We?”

“You stole my peanut butter, the least you can do is accept my company.”

“I bought you a bulk order of peanut butter.”

“I told Jarvis a while ago to pay for all Avengers Tower expenses through my account. So technically, I bought me a bulk order of peanut butter.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’m the money guy. That’s what I do.” He grabbed the remote out of her hands and hit play. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until finally Tony interrupted with a new tone of disdain in his voice. “Okay, seriously, what are we watching?”

“I don’t know. Clint recommended it.”

“This is the worst TV show I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s pretty awful,” she agreed.

They paused.

“Want to keep watching?” Tony asked.

Natasha grabbed the remote back and hit play. “Oh, definitely.”

By the time the episode finished, they’d come up with a formalized list of all the reasons why Clint had the worst taste in television shows on the planet. 

“Do you want to watch some real television?” Tony asked eagerly, reaching for the remote.

Natasha gestured to her shower cap. “I need to wash my hair.”

“And there's a cold hamburger waiting for you on the kitchen counter, sir,” added Jarvis. 

“Oh yeah.” Tony stood up. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around then.” He headed towards the door, but was stopped by the sound of Natasha’s voice. 

“Hey, Tony.” He turned around. “We should do this again. Well,” she amended, “maybe not... “ She pointed at the television, which was still paused on the credits for Clint’s show. “... this specifically, but… we should hang out.”

Tony shrugged. “Okay. Sure. Tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

They decided on pizza at eight o’clock and parted ways. Tony didn't miss the smile on Natasha’s face as he closed her door behind himself. 

“Jarvis,” he announced as he stepped into the elevator. “Add ‘Hanging out with Natasha’ to my schedule for tomorrow.”

And if he was grinning when the elevator door closed, well, there was nothing wrong with that.


End file.
